Cowboy with a Cause by Carla Cassidy

invaded her thoughts no matter what she was doing, making it difficult for her to concentrate on anything. She found herself alternating between wanting to run to him and to run away, seek out his company and isolate herself from him.
    He had her topsy-turvy with warring emotions and she didn’t seem to be able to gain control of them. She told herself she wanted nothing more than a friendly landlord-tenant relationship, but when his lips curved up in one of his sexy smiles, when his eyes took on that delightful twinkle, she wanted more.
    Was it any wonder she was putting things in the wrong places and feeling like she was losing her mind? It was his fault for being so darned sexy.
    She took a sip of her tea and stared out the window, grateful to have a few minutes alone before he made his morning appearance. He filled the room when he entered it, bringing with him that male vitality, that familiar scent that stirred her on a decidedly pleasant level.
    Drat the man, anyway, she thought crossly. It would have been easier had he been a drunk with bad manners who had to be tossed out on his ear.
    She glanced at the clock and realized it was after nine. Adam was either sleeping really late or he had gotten up very early and had left the house. She wouldn’t be surprised if he’d left. She knew he occasionally got up early and headed for the ranch to eat breakfast with his brother’s family.
    Tilly called to tell her that she wouldn’t be over that day and Melanie assured her she’d be fine on her own. Grabbing her sketch pad from the bedroom, Melanie returned to the kitchen, deciding that a bit of drawing would keep her mind occupied.
    She stopped at noon and made herself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and then returned to her sketching, happy to lose herself in her own little world without thoughts of Adam or her absentmindedness to intrude.
    The next time she looked up from her work was when she heard the door open and close and realized Adam must have returned home. She was stunned to realize it was almost five o’clock. She’d spent the entire day at the kitchen table.
    “Hi,” she greeted him as he entered the kitchen. “Did you have a good day?”
    “Yeah, I went out to the ranch and helped Nick with some fencing that needed to be repaired.” His eyes were dark, cautious. “How about you? How are you feeling?”
    “Fine. Why?”
    “I just wondered if maybe you were still in the midst of the temper tantrum you must have had last night, after I went to bed.”
    She looked at him in surprise. “Temper tantrum? What are you talking about?”
    “The pictures in the living room.” There was an edge of tension wafting off him.
    “What about them?”
    “The glass is broken in all of them. Didn’t you see them?” He frowned at her.
    “No, I haven’t been in the living room today.” And the truth was she consciously didn’t look at the pictures of herself dancing whenever she was in that room. It hurt too much.
    She now wheeled past him into the living room, and as she looked at the wall of photos, her breath caught painfully in her chest. The covering glass on each and every photo either had been broken, leaving the picture still intact, or had shattered and fallen to the floor. Some of the shards sparkled on the floor in the late afternoon sunshine drifting through the window.
    She was aware of Adam standing at the threshold between the kitchen and the living room. “They were like this when I got up this morning,” he said. “I just assumed you’d gotten angry or hit a depressive low or something and did it sometime in the middle of the night.”
    “I didn’t do this,” she said, although it was more of a question than a statement. She remembered her disturbing dreams of the night before.
    “I certainly didn’t do it,” he replied with a hint of indignation in his tone.
    “And you didn’t use my teakettle and put it away in one of the upper cabinets?” she asked, her mind whirling with